


This is Not a Witch AU

by Donotquestionme



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: AU, F/M, Oneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 21:10:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13621731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donotquestionme/pseuds/Donotquestionme
Summary: It's what it says on the tin.





	1. Chapter 1

Marianne was perusing one of the newer books that the store she worked at had gotten in when she heard a customer come in.

They didn’t get too many customers at Madam Plum’s Mystic Emporium. Not in the time she’d worked there anyway. And, when they did, it was mostly just people looking for ‘healing crystals’ or lucky charms, not much of what Marianne had been hoping for when she took the job. Not much ‘real’ magic.

Not like what Marianne had.

Marianne was…well, she wasn’t quite sure what to call it. A witch? From the research she’d done on witchcraft that didn’t sound right, but it was the closest thing she could find.

She’d had an innate magical ability for as long as she could remember (though, that wasn’t all that long) and she’d hoped to shed a bit more light on it by working at a place that specialized in magic, but, as far as Marianne could tell, the owner, Madam Plum herself, was not an overly magical person.

Sure, she could cure a hex or two, but she didn’t even have the Sight that Marianne did that allowed her to see people’s magical auras. Ironic for a woman whose actual first name was “Aura”. Nevertheless, Plum had helped her do a bit of research on her magic and learn a bit more about magic in general. Though, in honestly, she probably learned more from the passing magicians who stopped by from time to time looking for a particularly nasty curse removed or a badly enchanted magical item disenchanted.

Mostly, though, Marianne’s job seemed to consist of palm readings and telling tarot cards to college students.

“Welcome to Madam Plum’s Mystic Emporium,” Marianne said, not looking up from her book. “We specialize in all things magical. How can we enchant you today?”

“I’m not looking for enchantments,” said a cold voice. “I’m looking to remove a curse.”

The voice had such an intensity to it that Marianne looked up from her book in an instant.

Before her stood one of the tallest, most imposing men Marianne had ever seen. He must have been nearly seven feet tall and he was dressed in a jet black suit with a white undershirt and a jet black tie.

The first thing Marianne noted about his face, when she gazed up high enough to see it, was his strikingly blue eyes, almost hidden beneath thick, furrowed brows. Beneath those eyes was a long, pointed nose and a pair of lips drawn into a tight line. His face sported several scars, including one long scar running across his chin.

His presence was almost overpowering, filling the whole room.

Marianne focused her mind on her Sight, squinting a bit, and tried to read his aura.

When it came into focus in her vision, Marianne dropped her book in shock.

“I…I’m surprised anyone with your kind of magical power would need help with anything,” she said, voice trembling slightly.

The man’s aura was unlike anything she’d ever seen. Magic emanated off of him in waves. His whole body radiated it. It was an old and powerful magic, far more powerful than Marianne had ever even read about.

The man smirked.

“Your Sight is keen,” he said. “I could only expect as much. But untrained.”

The man took a step closer to her and, strangely, though the sheer power radiating off of him should have terrified her, Marianne did not feel compelled to pull away.

“If you were, you’d be able to tell that the magic in me is sealed away by the very curse I’ve come to ask you to break,” the man continued.

“A curse strong enough to hold that kind of magic back…must be _incredibly_ powerful!” Marianne remarked, trying to even imagine what kind of magic could seal a power that great away.

“More so than you can imagine,” the man said with a grim smile. “I have been trying to break it for over a century.”

At this, Marianne actually laughed. Whether it was out of humor, nervousness, or just shock was hard to say.

“And you came to _me?_ ” she asked, fighting the chuckle in her voice. “I’ve only been doing this for a few years!”

The man’s eye narrowed and this and the grim smirk turned to a pursed line.

“Then you don’t know. I suppose you must not. If you did, you wouldn’t have done such a terrible job of hiding it,” the man remarked, seemingly more to himself than to her. “Then I very much hope the time spent finding you wasn’t wasted.”

“Finding…me?” Marianne breathed.

“Yes. Finding you. I’ve spent the last five years looking for you.”

Marianne felt herself go cold.

“…why?”

The man took another step forward and this time Marianne did pull away.

“Because I could sense you the moment I was on the same half of the globe as you,” he whispered. “Even with so much of my magic locked away I could still feel it. The most powerful magical presence I’ve ever felt in this wretched human world. The closest thing I’ve ever encountered to my own magic in over a century. And thereby my best chance at breaking this curse.”

With the last few words, the man looked up at Marianne, almost pleading and, for a moment, Marianne could see the pain in his eyes.

“But…I’m just a palm reader,” Marianne said. “I read people’s fortunes and break the occasional hex. I’m not…I couldn’t have that kind of…”

The man slammed his fist on the table and Marianne jumped.

“I don’t care!” the man cried. “I don’t care about who you are or what you do! I don’t care what you do or don’t know about your own ability and I’m not here to convince you of your own worth! I am here for you to break this curse so can you or can’t you?!”

Again, Marianne expected to feel terrified, but the man’s cries sounded so desperate to her. It was an anger built from years of suffering.

“Give me your hand,” she said.

The man obeyed. He laid his gnarled and weathered hand, nearly twice the size of Marianne’s own, into hers and Marianne could feel him trembling, ever so slightly. This was a man on his very last hope.

“This…is magic beyond what I’ve ever seen,” Marianne said, examining his aura again, more closely. “It’s like the curse is woven into your very being. Breaking it would be like…ripping out stitches. Over every inch of your body. If I even can break it…it will hurt. A lot.”

“I don’t care,” the man breathed. “Nothing could be more painful than what I’ve already endured. Will you try?”

Marianne bit her lip. Getting tied up in a curse this powerful but not being able to break it could result in some serious magical backlash. Besides, she wasn’t quite sure if she wanted a being this powerful to be roaming around at full strength. Who knew why he was cursed in the first place. It may have been for the protection of the rest of the world.

She thought about refusing, but then she looked into his eyes again.

With his eyes wide and pleading, she could see just how beautifully blue they were and looking at them stirred a feeling in her she couldn’t place. Something in her gut just told her to trust him.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “But…I want something in exchange.”

“Anything,” the man promised, clasping her hands in his. “If you can break this and return me to my full strength, I will have the power to give you anything you desire. Name it and it will be yours.”

“Your story.”

The man blinked.

“I…I don’t understand,” he said.

“Your story,” Marianne repeated. “Who you are. Where you come from. How you got cursed like this in the first place.”

The man looked at her, baffled.

“Of anything in the whole world you could have, that’s what you want?” he said.

Marianne couldn’t really understand it herself either, but for some reason knowing who this man was and how he came to be in this shop was more important than anything else in the world.

“Yes,” Marianne breathed.

“Then you shall have it,” the man said.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they seemed far away, in a past that was so distant to him now. Marianne got the feeling this was the first time he’d shared his story before.

“I was…I _am_ The Bog King. A goblin king of a dark forest. I ruled over a kingdom of goblins, trolls, banshees, and toadstools. Not in this cold, wretched world, but somewhere were magic was more than a parlor trick. It was everywhere, in everything.”

Marianne’s eyes went wide.

“A goblin king?” she asked, amazed. As fantastical as the claim was, Marianne found she could not help but believe him.

“Yes,” the man, The Bog King, said. “I ruled for centuries, unquestioned in my power. Until one day, a group of traitors, _usurpers_ , tried to depose me. They claimed my ‘transgressions’ had made me unfit for the throne. Some of my closest advisors were among them.” The King’s voice was shaking with rage. “They called upon dark, ancient, and evil magic to lock away my power, cast me from my world into this one, and trap me in this horrid form. So, for years I’ve sought to undo what they did. To shed this wretched form, restore my magic, return home, and reclaim my throne. Preferably along with their heads, severed from their necks, to mount on my wall.”

“You say they trapped you in ‘this form’,” Marianne said. “What…was your form before?”

The King grinned darkly.

“If you succeed, you will find out. Though I warn you, you may not like what you see.”

“And your…transgressions?” Marianne asked. “What was that?”

“That, I cannot tell you.”

“What?” Marianne demanded. “You said that you would tell me your story!”

“And I have!” the King retorted, then his face fell. “Or, at least, as much of it as I am able.”

Marianne said nothing, allowing the King to continue.

“When they cursed me, the fiends also tried to strip my mind. For what purpose I don’t know. I managed to escape, slipping through the portal to this world, before they’d finished, so I retained most of my mind. But the reason why this was done to me, the sin I committed to warrant this ungodly punishment…I cannot recall.”

“I’m sorry.”

Marianne blinked, barely realizing the words were her own.

The King looked at her with those wide, blue eyes and again, something stirred in Marianne.

“I know how you feel, well, I mean, a little,” Marianne corrected herself hastily. “I have memory problems too. Retrograde amnesia. Everything past about ten years ago is just sort of…”

She shrugged.

“Doctor’s say it’s probably from mental trauma or something. Something I don’t want to remember, since my brain is fine. I looked around for a long time, trying to find anybody who knew me, but…I guess there’s no one out there missing me. Or at least not looking for me.”

“I’m…sorry.” This time it was the King who spoke.

Marianne shrugged again, then she cracked her knuckles.

“Okay,” she said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “Shall we?”

The King seemed to take a steading breath, then nodded.

“There’s a couch in the back room. It’ll probably be easier if you’re lying down. Like I said…this is probably going to hurt,” Marianne said.

The King followed her into the back and sat on the couch she pointed out.

Marianne turned away from him for a moment, trying to calm herself.

‘So, you’re trying to break a century old curse on an all-powerful, centuries old goblin king who could just as easily destroy the world when he’s released as do what he said he plans to,’ she thought to herself ‘No pressure, right?’

She turned around and nearly jumped out of her skin.

The King had removed his suit jacket and was working on removing his shirt.

“WH-WHAT…are you doing?!” Marianne sputtered.

The King blinked.

Then turned beet red.

“Oh! I-I figured that it would be easier if you had more contact with my skin! My chest seems to be where the curse is most tightly bound. I simply—I didn’t mean to—if it makes you uncomfortable I—”

Marianne was struck for a moment by the look of this imposing, powerful man, stammering and blushing like an embarrassed teenager. It was…honestly really adorable.

“It’s fine!” Marianne assured him. “You’re right, that makes sense. I just…” she cleared her throat. “Anyway, let’s uh…get started.”

The King cleared his throat as well and somewhat awkwardly reclined onto the couch, which was slightly too small for him to fit onto entirely.

Marianne took his hand again, examining the way the curse interwove with his magical essence. What had appeared like stitching weaving through him, was more like barbed wire. It could just as easily tear him apart in trying to remove it if she wasn’t careful.

She took a deep breath.

“Are you ready?” she asked.

“I am a hundred years past ‘ready’,” the King said.

“The curse seems less tightly bound to your hands,” Marianne said. “I’ll see if I can detangle it from there, and hopefully loosen the rest in doing so.”

The King nodded and braced himself.

Focusing her magic to her hands, Marianne ran her palms over the King’s left arm, pulling lightly at the curse.

The King hissed in pain and Marianne pulled her hands back instinctively, but then she heard the King’s hiss of pain transform into laughter.

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever even made it budge,” he laughed, voice sounding thick. “My gods, this might actually work. Don’t stop now! Please!”

Marianne nodded and laid her hands back on his arm. She pulled at the interweaving strands of the curse running throughout his arm, trying to untangle them so as to do as little damage as she could removing them.

The King’s face twisted with pain, but he remained silent.

Marianne spent a few minutes trying to unweave the curse from the King’s essence but eventually it got to the point where each tangle she undid, it only caused another to form. She would have to rip them out from here.

“Are you sure about this?” Marianne asked.

“I have been stuck in this wretched form for a century,” The King said, teeth clenched. “ _Tear it from me.”_

With a great heave, Marianne pulled back on the barbed strands of the curse and tore them away from the King’s arm.

The King cried out, unable to silence his pain.

The threads of the curse that Marianne removed dissipated in her hand and for a split second, nothing happened.

Then the King cried out again and grasped his now free hand with his other hand.

Suddenly, the freed hand almost seemed to burst. Long, clawed fingers tore through the existing fingers like tissue paper and hard, chitinous plates tore up from underneath the skin, one on the back of his hand, and one larger one wrapping around his forearm.

Marianne stepped back, horrified. Had the curse modified to protect itself? Or to punish someone trying to break it?

But the King simply stared at the gnarled hand in stunned silence. Without warning, tears began to pour down his face.

“My…my hand,” he breathed. “For the first time in over a hundred years…it’s _mine_ again.”

He laughed again, breathy laughs of joy and disbelief.

“ _That’s_ what your hand normally looks like?” Marianne asked, agog.

“I told you you might not like what you saw,” The King said, flexing his left hand in front of him. “But by the Gods I never thought this ugly thing would be such a sight for sore eyes.”

He turned to Marianne.

“Please, quickly,” he urged “If we leave it too long, the broken part of the curse will just reform. We have to get it all.”

Marianne wasted no time in moving on to his other arm. Marianne was starting to get a feel for the way the curse worked and it went slightly quicker this time.

Marianne stepped back for a moment after freeing the King’s other arm. He gazed in wonder and his hands, now back to what they’d apparently been over a hundred years ago, at least up to the elbow. And now, as Marianne looked at them as well, she really had to disagree with the King. They weren’t ugly at all. They were actually kind of...beautiful.

“I’ll start on your legs now,” Marianne said.

Before she could, however, the King hissed in pain again and clutched his left arm.

Marianne could see pinking skin creeping back over the dark plates of his true arm.

“We don’t have time!” The King said. “The curse is already reforming! We have to get the heart of it out. Now!”

The King released his arm and lay back again.

With a steadying breath, Marianne placed her hands over the King’s chest. She could feel his heart pounding beneath her touch, its rapid tempo matched only by her own heart’s.

“Oh God,” Marianne whispered, feeling the true extent of the curse’s entwinement with the King. It was so thickly woven through every bit of him that Marianne felt it must be impossible to remove without destroying him in the process.

Tentatively, she tugged at the bundle surrounding his heart.

The King grunted and slammed his head back against the armrest of the couch, grinding his teeth together to stop himself from crying out. He panted heavily.

“I can’t do this,” Marianne said, pulling her hands away.

“You must!” The King insisted.

“It’s too much! If I try to tear it out it will kill you for sure!”

“I DON’T CARE!”

“I won’t kill you!”

“I beg you! You must try! Whatever the consequences! Please!”

“I…I can’t do it!” Marianne said. “I can’t let you die!”

Marianne suddenly realized that was somewhat different than what she’d meant to say. To her surprise, she felt something flowing down her cheeks. She touched her face to discover…that she was crying. But why?

The King took Marianne’s hands in his.

“I admit, there is something else I did not tell you,” he whispered. “Perhaps because I cannot even truly believe it myself. But there is… _something_ that compels me to break this curse. More than my desire to be whole. More than my love of my kingdom. More than _anything_. But I cannot recall it. Whatever it is, it was stripped from me along with my true form. It’s this feeling that has driven me all these years to find a someone to break the curse, to find _you._ I don’t know what it is that drives me. All I know is that I would give my life a hundred times over to fulfil this compulsion.”

Tears rolled down the King’s cheeks to match Marianne’s.

“Believe me when I tell you I would rather die at your hands than live knowing that I could never do so,” he begged.

“I…I just can’t,” Marianne said. “If I tear it out all at once, it will bring too much of you with it.”

“Then tear it out slowly.”

“The pain alone would kill you!”

“I have to try! Please!”

Blinking the tears out of her eyes, Marianne laid her hands on the King’s chest again, feeling the mess of tangled curse that wrapped around his heart. Carefully, she pulled on the curse, ever so slightly.

She could feel the King’s body tense, but he made no sound.

Slowly and methodically, she dragged the strands of the curse away from his heart, millimeters at a time.

The King’s jaw was clenched so tight Marianne was sure he’d break a tooth, he panted heavily through his nose.

Marianne could see the curse starting to weave its way back into the King’s arms. If it reformed there, it would strengthen the barbs around his heart. She had to work faster.

She pulled slightly harder.

The King screamed out in pain, unable to contain it.

Instantly, Marianne dropped the threads of the curse and the wrapped themselves back around the King’s heart, even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry!” she cried “I’m sorry!”

“No! No, you can’t stop!” The King said. “If you stop, the curse will only embed itself more deeply. No matter what I do, you must not stop!”

Marianne help her breath and grasped at the threads again, drawing them forward and away from the King’s heart.

The King screamed again, but Marianne held strong, she continued drawing the curse out. She had to work in tiny increments at a time, pulling so painfully slowly, all the while the King shrieked in agony.

If she hesitated for even a moment, the King’s tearful begging for her to continue steeled her will.

The King whole body spasmed and contorted with pain. Marianne had never heard a man scream like that before. It pained her to her core.  But she could see the curse starting to come undone. The King’s waist shrunk in and the lines of more plating crisscrossed his skin. His shoulders began to swell and split into armored chitinous pauldrons.

Then, the curse snagged. No gentle tug could budge it. From here she would have to tear it out forcefully.

But what if it was still too entangled? What if tearing it out tore the King apart?

She hesitated once more and the King laid his hand overtop of hers, resting on his chest. He looked at her with eyes full of hope and of trust and she knew what she had to do.

With all her might, Marianne tore the curse from the King’s chest.

The King’s scream of pain was choked off in his throat. He convulsed a few times in silence, mouth gaping with a scream that would not come out.

Suddenly, he pushed Marianne away and tumbled to the floor.

Marianne reached for him when suddenly the King’s elegant black shoes burst open as large, clawed toes tore their way out of once human feet. His pants shredded as long, plated legs sprouted where his human legs had been. Then, most amazing of all, out of his back came four, long, iridescent wings, like those of a dragonfly.

Then he collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

“Bog!” Marianne cried.

She fell to her knees and cradled him in her arms. He wasn’t breathing.

“Bog!” she cried again, pressing a hand to his cheek. “Please!”

The King’s eyes fluttered, then squeezed tightly shut…then opened.

Marianne gasped as the force of the King’s freed magic suddenly struck her like a tidal wave. If she’d thought it had been imposing before, it was nothing compared to now. But, she still did not feel afraid. Only a deep and heartfelt relief at him being alive.

The King blinked and looked around, wide-eyed.

“Gods, my eyes. I hadn’t realized. It’s like I can see again,” he breathed, the corner of his mouth twitching up in a disbelieving grin. Then he looked at Marianne and his breath caught in his throat. His eyes went even wider.

“I don’t believe it…” he said, voice barely a whisper. “It’s…you.”

“W..what are you talking about?” Marianne asked, voice shaking.

“You asked me what my transgression was,” The King said, looking at her in awe. “It was _you!”_

“I…I don’t…” Marianne began.

The King sat up suddenly, and cupped Marianne’s face in his clawed hand. He beamed at her like a blind man seeing the sun for the first time.

“My transgression. My love for you. Our love for each other. The love that no one could understand and we never needed them to, oh my love—”

Marianne pulled away from him sharply, getting to her feet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she said.

The King’s face fell. He stood as well and took a step towards Marianne, hand outstretched.

“What they tried to do to me…they must have succeeded in doing to you,” he breathed. “Wiped your mind, your memories.”

Suddenly the King looked horrorstruck.

“Of course! I remember now! They took us both! And I—oh Gods—I left you. Abandoned you there!” he fell to his knees in front of Marianne.  “They took you from my mind and I didn’t realize that—oh my love, forgive me!”

“Stop calling me your ‘love’!” Marianne said. “I don’t know you!”

“Oh, but you _do,_ my lo— _Marianne._ You know me better than anyone. Better than I have ever known myself.”

The King laughed sadly.

“All this time. That compulsion. It was never to return to myself or my kingdom. It was to return to _you._ ”

“This is crazy,” Marianne said. “You said you’ve been here a hundred years! If it’s true that my memory was wiped, then I’d still have only been here ten years!”

“Time is so very different here than it is in our world, My—Marianne,” the King explained. “What was a century for me here, would have only been a few days for you there. Long enough for them to finish whatever horrid things they did, then leave you here.”

“I…I just…this can’t be true. This can’t be real. I would… I would remember _something,_ wouldn’t I?”

The King paused for a second, then his face lit up.

“Bog!” he exclaimed. “You called me ‘Bog’! No one else calls me that but you! You _do_ remember! Somewhere deep down you _do!”_

“You said that you were ‘The Bog King’, it was a reasonable shortening!” Marianne protested.

The King moved forward but Marianne did not recoil. He took her face into his hands and looked deeply into her eyes, pleading.

“But you do feel something, don’t you? Surely, they could not have taken everything we had from you. No force in this or any other world could do that. You cannot tell me that even now you feel nothing between us.”

With her racing heart and flushing cheeks, Marianne would be lying if she said she did.

She glanced downwards, breaking eye contact with the King.

“If…if I was cursed all this time, wouldn’t I have felt it?”

“It is as deeply woven into you as it was in me, only far subtler. Better hidden. They had the time to do so with you. I can see it. And, with my strength restored, I can remove it.”

“But…if it’s a deeply rooted as yours…” Marianne breathed.

“It will hurt. Perhaps as much as it did with me.” The King took a shaky breath. “I cannot ask you to bear such pain for me and…” he swallowed “…and if you truly wish to remain here, and live as you have been…I will not stop you. I will…respect what you want.”

Marianne looked back up to meet the King’s gaze again.

Those hopeful blue eyes, clearer than she’d seen them since he’d stepped into her store, stirred that same, unplaceable feeling in Marianne.

“I want…” she began.

The King waited anxiously.

“…to remember.”

The King breathed a sigh of relief and, without another word, took Marianne into his arms. Marianne found that, for as hard and chitinous as the King was, she did not find the embrace at all unpleasant.

“Brace yourself, my love,” The King said. “My skill in magic is much more precise than yours in your state and I will ease as much of the pain as possible, but the curse is still deeply rooted in you.”

“I…trust you,” Marianne said, and found it to be true.

The King took a step back and took Marianne’s face in his hands then pressed his lips to hers.

Marianne felt a rush of magic surge through her, so much more practiced and skillful than her own clumsy attempts at magic, gracefully weaving through her being like soft, gentle hands.

Then pain started slow at first, then grew and grew until it was white hot, but even as it did, a sort of warmth emanated from their kiss that comforted and soothed her. She focused on that feeling, and on the kiss that brought it about, a kiss that was feeling more and more familiar with each passing second.

The King’s hold on her shifted until his arm was wrapped around her waist and his other hand cradled her head. Marianne followed suit, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Oh, she wanted him so much closer.

Marianne felt her ears stretch and her back swell until something burst forth from her upper back but the pain felt numbed in comparison to the swell of love that was forming in her heart.

Finally, the pain subsided and the kiss ended, Marianne pulled back and opened her eyes to a familiar face.

“Bog,” she breathed.

Bog’s face broke into the wide, snaggle toothed grin that she loved so much and tears streamed down both their faces.

“Yes, love. It’s me. It’s you!”

Seemingly unable to contain his joy, Bog lifted Marianne off her feet and spun her around in the air, her flowing purple wings trailing along.

 “Come on,” Marianne said. “Let’s go home. If I remember correctly, we still have some heads to mount on our wall.”

 


	2. Angsty Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoops I guess there's an angsty epilogue now.

The first thing Bog did when they got home, after ordering the capture and execution of the would-be-usurpers of course, was to collapse, sobbing, into his mother’s arms. He’d gone from snarling out the order to “find and dismember those wretched whelps in the most torturous manner you can devise” to spotting his mother across the room and instantly dropping his staff and dashing across the throne room to embrace her.

She’d been happy to see him, as well, of course. She’d been worried sick. But, it had only been three days for her. For Bog it had been over a hundred years. A hundred years of missing her, of fearing he would never find a way back to her, to any of his friends, to his family, to his home. It had taken upwards of ten minutes for him to even regain composure enough to explain what had happened, then another ten minutes for the both of them to stop crying. Bog must have spent another hour individually reuniting with each of the castle’s inhabitants, many of whom had never received much more affection from him that just not being kicked when they were in the way.

For Marianne it was…different. Dawn and her father had rushed to see that she was safe. Apparently, the entire Fairy Kingdom had been searching for her these past few days. And they had embraced, but it was just…different. Marianne hadn’t spent a hundred years in the human world missing them. She hadn’t even spent the ten years she did spend in the human world missing them. She hadn’t known they existed. She’d only remembered them, remembered her whole life, a few hours ago. Before that, she’d just been a mostly ordinary girl with a bit of a knack for magic working at a mystic bookshop that sold more fakeries than anything else. Now, suddenly she was the princess of a kingdom of fairies. Or, that is, she always was. Always had been, even when she didn’t know it. And she’d spent the vast majority of her life knowing it. So then why did it feel so…different?

Her father and Dawn had wanted her to come home to the Fairy Kingdom so the royal physicians could look her over for any last remnants of the curse but she’d insisted she stay with Bog in the Dark Forest. He’d been where she had been. He understood what she went through. They needed to be together as they recovered from the ordeal. Or, at least, that’s what she said. It was true. So why didn’t it feel like the whole truth?

Though, thinking about it, she was sure that, if she had gone back to the Fairy Kingdom, Bog simply would have followed her there. He was never more than a few feet from her and always kept her in his view. He would reach for her hand, almost compulsively, even when doing other things. Marianne wasn’t sure he even knew he was doing it.

Besides giving a brief explanation to everyone on what had happened, neither Bog nor Marianne talked at all about the experience. Things fell back into a rhythm. But it was…different. Even for Bog, Marianne could tell. He was shaky and unsure, though he hid it well. He seemed overwhelmed and Marianne would catch him out of the corner of her trying to catch his breath and calm himself. For everyone else it was so normal. Sure, it had been an eventful three days, but that’s all it had been. It made Marianne want to scream. How could everything just go on the way it always had when everything had been turned so upside down?

It wasn’t until the third night they’d been back that they finally spoke about it. They had been lying in bed, kept awake by words unspoken.

“What did you do?” Marianne asked. “For all that time?”

“A lot of things,” Bog said. “I spent a few years just getting used to the human world. Learning about clothes and cars and all that. I searched up and down for any trace of something from our world, but there was nothing. Not a goblin or a toadstool. Then I began trying to find someone to break the curse, but I didn’t have the resources to look far. I found out rather quickly that to do much of anything in the human world, you need money. So, I set about making some money.”

“What kinds of things did you do?”

“Again, a lot of things, some I’m not particularly proud of. I found out very quickly that humans are very susceptible to magic, especially magical persuasion and, even with most of my magic sealed away, I had enough to influence people. I…worked my way up the ladder of organized crime.”

“You were a mob boss?!” Marianne exclaimed.

“It seemed…relevant to my existing skillset,” Bog said with a smirk. “Running a Kingdom and running a mob are more similar than you might think. I started out as an underling, then worked my way up. It’s surprising how much easier it is to move up the ranks when those above you get old and die and you don’t. With help from my magic, I rose to the top in about fifteen years. From there I ran things very successfully for another twenty, all the while trying every self-proclaimed ‘mystic’ and ‘healer’ I could find to try to break the curse, but with no success.”

“What made you give up your life of crime?”

“Nothing, really. I just realized I had the money I needed and that the rest of the operation was just tying me down. So, I gave it up to my second in command and started dedicating all my time to finding a way to break the curse. I traveled all over the world. Europe, Asia, all over Africa. From shaman to monks to faith healers. Every preacher of every religion that claimed they could heal. I even looked into the Church of Scientology, just in case but, as you can imagine, they weren’t much help. At that point I…began to lose hope. Still, I kept looking, anywhere I could think to look. That’s the reason I didn’t sense your presence for so long, I’d been in Africa at the time. Finally, I went back to the states and that’s when I felt it.”

Bog looked at Marianne and brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes.

“The strongest magical force I’d ever felt in the human world.  I realized, at that moment, that if there was any hope of breaking the curse, it was that. It was _you_. I dedicated everything to finding you. All my resources, all my connections. I could feel your presence, so teasingly close, but I only had enough of my power left to sense it, not to track it. I had figured that someone with that amount of raw magical energy would be traveling the countryside performing miracles or heading their own religion. The last place in the world I expected to find you was at a bookshop.”

Bog took a shuddering breath and clasped Marianne’s hand in his.

“All those years trying to break the curse. Gods, it haunts me to think what would have happened if I’d succeeded.”

“What do you mean?”

“If I’d broken the curse before you came to the human world, I would have returned home. By the time I hunted down those vermin and found where they’d been keeping you, they’d have already sent you there. By then a hundred years might have passed for you and you’d have been—you’d—” Bog couldn’t seem to make himself finish the thought.

“They didn’t get the chance to make me mortal,” Bog said, tears starting to well in his eyes. “But they did _you._ You had such a _tiny_ sliver of time. If I hadn’t found you in that time…I had a hole in my heart without you. They’d stripped you from my mind but my heart still ached for you every night. If I hadn’t found you…to think of living the rest of eternity that way, with suffering I could never find the cause of, endlessly searching for something that was already gone. And Gods, to think if I found someone who could break it after you were already gone…if I hadn’t been fast enough…if I hadn’t…”

“But you _did,_ Bog,” Marianne said. “You found me and your brought me back.”

“After abandoning you in the first place,” Bog said morosely.

“That wasn’t your fault! You didn’t know I was there! You didn’t even remember I existed!”

“I should have at least _considered_ the idea that they might have had other prisoners! I should have fought back against them instead of just running away to save myself.”

“If you’d stayed, they would have just wiped your mind, too and we’d never have been free.”

Bog seemed to have no response, he laid his head against Marianne’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

After a long silence, Marianne spoke.

“It’s been another century for them by now, hasn’t it,” she said.

“It has.”

“Everyone I knew, by now…is gone. Madam Plum. Everyone who ever visited the store. Everyone I ever knew…they’re all gone.”

Bog was silent.

“I just…I _know_ that this is the real me. This is who I’ve been for hundreds of years. It’s who I’ll be for hundreds more. That girl who worked in a mystic bookstore was a tiny, tiny, moment in my life…but that person doesn’t just…go away. Those years, that _life_ , it doesn’t just disappear. Even though I _know_ who I am…I can’t help feeling like this is the dream. Like I’m going to wake up and be back in my apartment with all my neighbors who are all dead by now.”

Marianne sniffed, trying in vain to hold back tears.

“And now all these people here, my family, my friends, everyone who knows me as the me that I’m supposed to be. I can’t help but feel so distant from them. Like, I’m not the girl they knew. I’m just some stupid girl who works at a bookstore who suddenly has all these memories she doesn’t know what to do with!”

Marianne shuddered and a sob escaped her.

She felt Bog’s arms encircle her and pull her close to him.

“I know, my love. I know.”

“And it’s not even fair,” Marianne continued. “I spent ten years not knowing who I was, not missing anyone. You spent over a _hundred_ missing your old life every day. Missing _me_ even though you couldn’t even remember me. Spending every day hoping and praying to find a way to break the curse. Meanwhile, I just worried about working on Saturday! It’s not fair for me to feel this way!”

“Hush…” Bog whispered. “We suffered in our own way, my love. There’s no fairness in comparing them. I am not the man that I was six days ago in this world, either. And yet life continues as if I am. Everything simply…goes on, as if the whole world wasn’t torn apart and stitched back together. No one else has changed. No one…but you. And that’s why I need you so badly. You’re the only one who looks at me and doesn’t see that man that I’m not anymore. You remember who I was, but you have also seen me for who I am. And if you can love the man who spent a hundred years in a world that was not his own, and became far too good at manipulating it…then I can easily love a woman…who worked at a bookstore.”

After that, the two lay in silence, holding each other, until they both drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh...this happened I guess...
> 
> I went for a walk with the dog and came up with another chapter, then immediately went home and wrote it. Then didn't edit it at all or even re-read it. Enjoy.

**Author's Note:**

> This is what I did instead of sleeping last night. I started at 3am, it's now 8am.  
> I got the idea at 3 and I knew if I waited even until after I went to bed that I would never get the motivation to actually write it.  
> I didn't edit this. At all.  
> Enjoy??


End file.
